Cold Waves Divide Us

I started drinking to try to make things go away for short periods of time. Well, I tried to start drinking. Heather caught me going through my Dad's liquor cabinet after the one time she found me somewhat drunk. I tried other methods of self-medicating to numb things there was this useless fucking white guy with dreads who had nothing stronger than weed.

I was skipping school a lot as I struggled with facing it a lot of the time. I think at first my friends covered for me and made up excuses for why I wasn't there. As I said before, my teachers were kind of glad they rarely had to deal with the grief-stricken kid. I'd get a lift to school and then when it was safe I would ditch and just wander for hours. Staying at home was little solace. I would go and lose myself in some woods or hang out in a public park. There was a bodega I found that either thought I looked old enough or didn't care enough to card me when I bought alcohol from them.

This was about when I met Nala. Nala had been living rough on the streets for some time. I never quite learned how old she was, living like that often takes a toll, so she could have been in her twenties and just looked like she was about fifteen years older. Nala was from Calcutta originally, her parents had moved over here many years ago. She had run away from home, escaping from an arranged marriage that her parents had told her was happening. We became friends really quickly.

I would bunk off from school, find her in a park or near some run-down building, and we would hang out for hours. I would bring her books and food. I found her easy to talk to, as she was not in the circle of friends and not a constant reminder of what I had lost. It took me some time before I told her what had happened, but when I did, she was supportive. It was weird finding someone else where I felt I could just talk to her for hours without the spectre of Trish and Rebecca hanging over me.

She had a few spots she stayed in, but there was this one abandoned tenement building that was her home a lot of the time. When it got colder, we started hanging out there a lot. I even brought her some clothing for the warmer months.

Then came the time when she asked me if I wanted to get high. I thought she was going to get some rolling papers out and some weed. There are things with Nala I think I had chosen to ignore, and the track marks were one of those. She went to a stash she kept behind a loose panel in the wall and brought out some of her work and a belt. I should have run, this should have been my sobering moment when I got out of despair. I would love to say that, but it wasn't.

She didn't say anything, but she knew it was my first time. She cooked up her work and helped me with the belt. All I can say is everything went away for a short amount of time. There was a rush of elation for a moment. I slipped out of consciousness, and for a moment there was time of peace.

I came round to Nala kissing me. I should have fended her off, but in the moment a physical connection with another person felt good. She pulled down my pants and mounted me. It felt good, if awkward. I simply lay there as she did the work. If I could bring her some pleasure, I suppose that was good. I got the impression that with her, you took these small moments when they are offered, as they may not come again soon. This was another method of escape for her.

Then I felt someone grab her and shove her off me. A hand slapped me across the face. It was Heather. I saw that Nala was lying dazed on the floor nearby.

“This is where you've been hiding?” Heather shouted at me.

“Leave him alone,” Nala warned.

“He's my brother, and I have no idea who the fuck you are.” Heather turned, glaring at Nala.

Nala said little else. I could see it in her eyes that she felt a need to protect me, but that intervening might makes things worse. Nala left the room, leaving the two of us alone.

“You are so getting tested after this,” Heather said angrily.

She stood there, hands on her hips, just looking angry. It wasn't until then that Heather really saw the room properly. Somehow she had failed to notice the belt still wrapped around my arm. Her expression changed she was livid.

“You.”

“Absolute”

“Fucking”

“Asshole.”

She punctuated each word with kicks and punches.

“You think you are the only person who lost her? She was my best friend since I was five. She was your girlfriend for a few months. Do you not think I want to just break down and cry? But no, my selfish asshole of a fucking brother is wallowing in his grief and off to God knows where. While I'm living in a house a room away from where my best friend was fucking murdered.” Heather continued screaming at me.

“What, I'm not allowed to grieve?” I shouted back.

“Like this?” This isn't grieving this is you avoiding everything. The rest of us are trying to process and move on.”

I knew she was right, but there was something inside me that needed to defy Heather.

“I don't want your fucking help.”

I've never seen her that angry. She started crying and stormed out.

“Stay with your junkie bitch. Don't come home.”

I don't know how long I sat there. Nala came back and just found me staring at the wall. She asked me if I wanted to get high again.